Vince McMahon Shrugged
by Eloquent Mark
Summary: Kirsten Jarvis is a young woman applying for a PR job at WWE, but when an increasingly insane Vince McMahon adds her to the Diva roster, she is dragged into the mad world of wrestling. Soon, it is unclear whether the superstars themselves think it's real.
1. Chapter 1: Grapefruits

**Chapter One – Grapefruits**

Kirsten Jarvis had been perched on the edge of the leather sofa for somewhere close to an hour, twiddling her thumbs as the secretary tapped away at her keyboard with overlong nails. Her stomach was churning; she couldn't believe she had been invited for a meeting with the chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment himself, Vincent Kennedy McMahon Jr. She couldn't exactly call herself a big wrestling fan, in fact it couldn't have been further from the truth, but the man was a huge success story and the head of a major, multinational corporation. She had aimed for understated class, wearing a long black skirt and blue shirt, her brown hair tied up in a neat ponytail, and was increasingly feeling as though she had possibly made too much of an effort. Finally, the heavy wooden doors to the office burst open and there stood Vince McMahon, a huge, imposing figure, in all his glory.

"Who's next?" Vince roared, feet wide apart, making himself appear as intimidating as possible.

"A Miss Jarvis," the large secretary replied in a thick southern accent, "She has an appointment about the job in public relations."

"Well, send her in Goddamn it!" the chairman yelled, before turning around and strutting his way back into his office, slamming the door hard behind him. Kirsten stood up, suddenly a lot more nervous about her meeting, and made her way towards the doors.

"Mister McMahon will see you now." The secretary informed, about a minute too late.

"Thank you." Kirsten replied, raising a confused eyebrow, and walked into the office. The interior was a far cry from the rest of the dull offices in the building, almost excessively decorated. Off to the side of the room was one long sofa, into which were crammed two men and one woman, facing out towards an office chair, which was pointed towards the desk. On the other side of this was another chair, Vince's, behind which stood two aged men, either side of their employer. Behind Vince was a huge portrait, a beautifully painted depiction of himself, topless, holding the world on his shoulders as if he were Atlas.

"Jarvis, right?" Vince asked, as loudly as ever.

"Yes, sir." Kirsten replied, nervously.

"Take a seat, Jarvis!" he yelled, a request she quickly accepted, heart beating ever more quickly, "We use Christian names around here, Jarvis, what's yours?"

"Kirsten, sir."

"Kirsten, eh? Well, I'm Vince, to the right of you are my son, Shane, my daughter, Stephanie, my commentator, Jim, and behind me are my friends, Pat and Gerald."

"Nice to meet you all." Kirsten said, looking around the room at everyone with a nervous smile.

"Good work on the tit job, by the way." Vince complemented, taking a huge swig of coffee as he inspected the young woman.

"I'm sorry?" Kirsten had to pause for a second, finding it hard to believe that the WWE chairman had possibly said what she thought she had heard, especially when she had never even considered breast augmentation.

"Last time you came in here, I told you that you were too flat to be a WWE Diva. I know the truth hurts sometimes, but I'm glad you took my advice. That's a rack worthy of a title reign. I'm not afraid to tell you that we've got big things in store for you." Vince elaborated. Kirsten looked around to the three people sitting to her right, as if hoping somebody would say something, but Jim Ross simply shook his head with a knowing sadness. Gerald Brisco walked over to Vince, leant over and whispered in his ear. The chairman's expression suddenly changed completely. "Gerald tells me that you're applying for a job in public relations."

"That's right, sir." Kirsten said with a smile, glad the confusion had passed.

"Now why the hell would you want to go and do something stupid like that?"

"I don't really understand what you mean, there was an opening for the job..."

"I know that! If there wasn't an opening, you wouldn't be here, but I'm Vince McMahon damn it! I mean, you ever heard of Ted Turner?"

"Uh... yeah, I kind of ha..."

"Exactly! You've never heard of Ted Turner, just like you've never heard of Dr. D David Schultz!"

"Okay, that one I agree with." Kirsten said, wondering why Vince was quite so purple in that moment.

"I like the cut of your jib, Jarvis! That's why I want to put you on TV, starting this week! Because there's nothing a man likes more than a beautiful woman on his television, certain present company excluded!"

"But I don't know anything about being on television, Mister McMahon." Kirsten pleaded, becoming increasingly worried by the completely misguided enthusiasm of her potential employer.

"What's to know? Stephanie, find Kirsten here something to do! Stick her on Wrestling Challenge or something, Demolition need a new valet!"

"Vince," Jim Ross said, sounding completely frustrated as he spoke in his Oklahoma drawl, "Wrestling Challenge hasn't been on since 1996, and Demolition haven't been with us since 1991."

"JR, bullshit like that is why I keep firing you." Vince grumbled, "You're still here, Jarvis? Shane, give her an XFL cap and get her out of my office! Nitro's kicking our asses in the ratings and I'm not going to lose this war." He turned away from Kirsten, looking up at his giant portrait with admiration. Shane quickly reached down into a cardboard box, full of never worn baseball caps, and walked over to place one on Kirsten's head, before spinning her chair around and motioning towards the door. Kirsten got up, still relatively shell shocked by her meeting with Vince, and walked towards the exit. "Oh, and Jarvis?" Vince said, halting her in her tracks, "Welcome to the WWE."


	2. Chapter 2: A Bad Urn of Events

**Chapter 2 – A Bad Urn of Events**

A few days passed before Kirsten received a call from Stephanie McMahon, informing her that she was now officially a member of the Raw roster, and to attend the three hour tri-branded show the following Monday. Only five days after her meeting with Vince McMahon, she was expected to start work, a prospect which, if she was honest with herself, was completely terrifying. At least the show was down in Miami, meaning she wouldn't have to fly across the country in order to get there from her home in New York.

Kirsten stepped off the plane in Miami International after an uneventful trip, not looking her most glamorous in a T-shirt and jeans, and was surprised to be greeted by a man holding a 'Miss Jarvis' sign. Timidly, she walked over to the suited figure and smiled.

"Kirsten Jarvis?" the driver enquired, to which Kirsten replied with a nod, "I'm Quincy, I'll be driving you to the arena today. Ready to go and get your bags?"

"Sure, nice to meet you, Quincy."

The pair headed outside to the car, where Quincy held the door open for Kirsten before hurling her luggage into the trunk with a crash and speeding away.

* * *

The outside of the arena was pretty much deserted, with the exception of a few diehard fans that had already arrived for the night's wrestling, and the duo made their way inside. Backstage, in contrast to the scene outdoors, was chaotic. People were running back and forth, some in their ring gear, some in suits or jeans, but everybody seemed to be preoccupied with something.

"Sorry, Kirsten, you're on your own!" Quincy yelled, dropping her bag and sprinting back out of the rear entrance. He couldn't have been more right, as Kirsten looked around the area for somebody to talk to. The first person to walk past her, an extremely heavy looking backstage worker, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," she began, "It's my first day, could you point me towards whoever is in charge tonight?"

"I wouldn't know anything about that." The stranger replied, before jogging away. Kirsten stood alone, confused, and looked around the area again. She had never seen anything quite like it; there were hulking men who looked like bodybuilders, men who must have been giants, men who would be laughed at and called morbidly obese, a man in a gold costume and a leprechaun. Everybody seemed to be warming up or talking in their own little group, with one exception: a ponytailed man, sitting cross legged atop a large container, who Kirsten quickly made her way towards.

"Hi?" Kirsten greeted, looking up at the superstar, who seemed to have a faraway look in his eyes.

"Yo, dude, come on up." He replied. Kirsten left her bag on the floor and struggled to make her way up onto the gigantic box, finally managing to perch on the edge next to the stranger. "Pretty sweet up here, right?"

"I... I guess so. Kirsten Jarvis; I'm a new Diva here, apparently." Kirsten explained, still uneasy but smiling at her new colleague.

"That's freakin' cool! I'm..." he raised his hands, pointing at himself with his thumbs, "...RVD."

"Nice to meet you, Harvey." Kirsten reached out and shook Rob Van Dam's hand, before looking out across the backstage area.

"No, dude, it's RVD. Rob Van Dam, right? You don't know me?"

"No, sorry, I mean if I'm honest, I don't really know anybody around here." Kirsten admitted, embarrassed.

"Dude, that's cool! I mean, check me out, I don't even work here anymore!"

"You... don't?"

"No way, man, shit's all crazy around here these days. I mean I used to, right, but then me and my buddy, Sabu, we were driving through Ohio and we got in some trouble with some like cop dude. I'm taking some time off to sort some stuff out, but it's all good, I mean I learnt my lesson about that stuff anyway." RVD reached into his pocket, pulling something out, "Toke?"

"Uh... no thanks." Kirsten replied, "So you just hang around here?"

"Sure."

"Well anyway, do you know who I should talk to about where I should be and what I should be doing? I'm kind of lost."

"Totally, dude, go and talk to Paul E." RVD replied, forgetting which year and company he was in. Kirsten hopped down, before turning and looking back up at her new acquaintance. "Thanks, Rob."

"It's cool, take it easy tonight." RVD seemingly went back into a state of bizarre meditation.

* * *

Kirsten continued her walk through the bizarre backstage area, passing three men, already in their trunks, standing with a large collection of baby oil.

"Hey!" the smallest of the trio, Cody Rhodes, called out, "Hey, get over here, Randy wants to talk to you!" he ordered with a slight lisp. Kirsten obliged, dragging her bag behind her as she walked closer to the Legacy.

"You're new around here, right?" Ted DiBiase, Jr. asked, leaning against a pillar.

"Yeah, it's my first night, not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing." Kirsten said, letting out a friendly laugh.

"That's a pretty nice bag you've got there." Randy Orton muttered, staring at Kirsten intently.

"Uh... thank you, it's new."

"Be a real shame if anything happened to it."

"I... I guess it would, yeah." Kirsten agreed, as Orton stood there, seemingly trancelike, towering over the young woman.

"Calm down, Randy." Ted urged, tapping his leader on the back. Orton simply smirked to himself and leant back against the wall.

"Look," Cody started, taking control of the conversation, "We're in charge around here these days, so if you want to make sure things go well, stick with us and we'll keep an eye out for you, or six eyes. I'm Cody Rhodes, this is Randy Orton and that's my tag partner, Ted DiBiase."

"And stay away from Triple H, he's the biggest loser on Raw." Orton demanded.

"Apart from the thirteen world titles..." Ted grumbled.

"You shut your mouth!" Orton roared, smacking Ted around the ear as Kirsten looked on with confusion. Suddenly, the entire group turned pale, and went silent, backing up as far as possible against the wall.

"What's wrong?" Kirsten asked, realising the trio were staring over her shoulder. She turned around to see a huge man, clad in black, staring down at the group, anger etched on his face, and quickly moved out of the way.

"Orton!" he roared, moving closer to the group.

"Un... Undertaker..." Randy stuttered.

"You seen my urn, boy?" The Undertaker asked, snarling his words.

"No, no I haven't."

"You better not be screwing with me again, Orton."

"Taker, I'm telling you, I haven't seen it!" Orton repeated, sweating heavily.

"If you find it, let me know." Undertaker ordered, walking away intently. Legacy stood in silence for a moment, regaining their composure, before Ted turned to Kirsten.

"You can go, we'll see you around." he said, practically pushing her away.

* * *

It was some time later that Kirsten had finally made her way to the Divas locker room, still not having met anyone with authority but now acquainted with the other women, who were a mixed bag. While a few were friendly, some, particularly the French-Canadian, were much less welcoming. After a while, Kirsten, Mickie James, Kelly Kelly and a few others decided to relax in the more spacious backstage area, leaving their room empty. It didn't stay empty for long, however, as Christian shoved Edge into the room, locking the door behind them.

"What, Christian, what?" Edge demanded, unsure why Christian was so eager to get him alone when they had barely spoken in months. Christian took his bag down from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Edge, check this out!" Christian yelled with excitement, pulling out the Undertaker's urn with a grin.

"You stole it?"

"I know, right? We can totally dominate the tag team division again with this!"

"But we're not even a tag team anymore."

"Then let's get back together, bro! I mean think about it, the greatest team of all time, with power over the Undertaker! That'd be awesome, right?"

"You could even say it'd... totally... reek... of awesomeness?" Edge said, finally agreeing with his brother's idea.

"This is going to rule! Can't even remember why I turned on you now!" Christian said with a huge smirk.

"Well, way I remember it, it was because I won King of the Ring and became way more successful than you." Edge reminded, quickly turning Christian's mood to one of angry remembrance, "But you should probably forget about that again."

"Those Hardy Boyz won't know what hit them!" Christian exclaimed.

"But I mean... Jeff's gone, right? There's only Matt left." Edge pondered, stroking his long chin, "Handicap matches rule!" the pair hit a high five as someone knocked on the door.

"What are you two doing in there?" a voice yelled from the outside.

"Uhh..." Christian tried desperately to think of an excuse as Edge searched for a place to hide the urn, deciding on a brand new black bag, "Edge ate some bad nuts and had to use the bathroom but the men's were full! We'll be out in a minute!" Edge finished zipping up Kirsten's bag, urn inside, and the pair quickly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

* * *

A few minutes passed before somebody else made their presence felt in the Divas locker room, as a cold blue eye peered through the open doorway. There was nobody else around, so Randy Orton kicked the door open with a huge, vile grin, slamming it shut behind him. Quickly, he dropped to his knuckles and knees, looking around the room, before finding his target: Kirsten's bag. Slithering across the room, he knelt next to it, throwing it open with glee, but was shocked at what he found within it. It was the Undertaker's urn, which legend had long said was the source of all his power, power Randy had experienced firsthand at Wrestlemania and in the Cell. He stood up slowly, holding the shiny vessel in his hands, eyes brightened by the light reflected from its polished surface. Finally, he had what it took to be the ultimate power in the WWE. Before he could celebrate, however, there was a thunderous crash at the door, then a pause for a few seconds, then another.

"Get back! I've got your urn!" Orton yelled through the door, confidently. Another smash at the door, so hard it nearly blew it from its hinges. There was a longer pause this time, as the door blew open completely, nearly hitting Randy in the process. It wasn't the Undertaker who stood before Randy; it was Triple H, caressing his sledgehammer in his hands. The former teammates, now enemies, stared at each other for a few moments, before Randy broke the silence.

"Oh shi..." he said, barely audible, as Triple H raised his hammer for a swing, which Randy narrowly avoided as it crashed into the floor, denting it. Randy sprinted from the room, skidding as he went, as Triple H chased after him, Shawn Michaels skipping along behind his partner with a pair of glow sticks.

"Son of a bitch!" Triple H roared, as Orton screamed out to his Legacy buddies, who quickly sprinted alongside him. Randy was almost free, having reached the rear entrance, but found his way blocked by another ominous figure; The Undertaker. Randy stopped in his tracks, looking down at what was in his hands, and gulped.

"Taker, I can explain." Randy said with a forced, friendly smile.

"Explain it to the Lord." Undertaker replied, taking off his coat. Randy quickly hurled the urn away, out of sight, hoping to distract the Phenom, but it was too late. Legacy quickly sprinted left, the only direction still unblocked, and ran out of sight, three of the greatest WWE superstars in history in hot pursuit.

* * *

After a fierce beatdown, Undertaker returned to the location of his urn, where RVD was still sitting cross legged on top of his container, now having a smoke, and looked up at the chilled out ECW legend.

"Van Dam." Undertaker greeted, in a way that could be seen as friendly by his standards.

"Taker." RVD replied, between puffs.

"Did you see where my urn went?"

"Yeah, dude, got it right here for you." RVD hopped down from his perch, urn in his left hand, and passed it to the Deadman. The Undertaker stared down at it for a few moments, realising it had broken open when Orton had thrown it; he would pay for that.

"You didn't... see where the contents went, did you?"

"Sorry, bro, all I saw was a pile of like this dust stuff next to it, never realised that thing had anything important in it. Thought it was just like... shiny, you know?"

"Dust? Those were my mother's ashes, Van Dam." Undertaker explained, turning red. "Where are they now?" he stared at RVD, who suddenly went silent, holding the item he had been smoking at arm's length.

"Someone told me that dust like... got you high quicker, but I dunno if he was joking, now that I think about it." RVD mumbled. Undertaker was now bright purple.

"You... smoked... my mother's ashes?"

"Damn, man, my bad, I didn't realise." RVD said, his chilled out demeanour not changing in the slightest, "Seriously, major bad karma on me, bro." He stubbed it out on the side of the container as Undertaker looked on in a mix of complete horror and rage, before beginning to tape his fists, emotionlessly.

* * *

Kirsten was sat with her new friends, learning some of the workings of the company and getting some of the gossip about the other superstars, when someone ran up to her. It was Jim Ross, who had finished his announcing duties for the night.

"Kirsten, I've been looking around for you." He drawled, fixing his hat. Kirsten stood up and walked over to JR, who seemed his usual self.

"Hello, Mister Ross, I've been trying to find someone to talk to for hours." Kirsten explained.

"Yeah, get used to it; I didn't even know they were moving my ass to Smackdown until it happened." JR grumbled, "Anyway, hope you're settling in around here, stick with the guys and we'll have something for you next week."

"I am settling in, thank..." She started, before stopping suddenly, "What's that noise?"

"Hell if I know." JR replied listening to what sounded like a mix of a motorcycle engine and screaming. Out of nowhere, Undertaker sped past on his huge custom Harley Davidson, its engines roaring with fury, a rope tied to its rear.

"Seems like a bad idea to be driving that in here." Kirsten observed. Suddenly, RVD also sped past, on his back, tied to the Harley by his ankles, and the pair disappeared out of the rear exit. Kirsten and JR stood in silence for a few moments, her jaw feeling as though it was almost touching the floor, before JR fixed his hat again, unsurprised, and walked away.

"This fuckin' place." He said to himself, heading out of sight.


End file.
